EPrime: The Redemption of Ron Weasley
by MBurris
Summary: Ron Weasley never openly uses his strengths against the enemy ... but Harry and Hermione DO experience a curious amount of odd events and coincidences in their fight against Tom Riddle. And there's the odd choice of Hermione to marry Ron Weasley. Are they related? This is an altered version of my previous story of the same name - details of the changes are in chapter 3.
1. Chapter 1

8

 **Ah, Disclaimer!** Thou that art necessary, but unwanted, but always assumed! As if people should be reminded that I am but an intruder upon the 'Verse, furtively attempting to fix egregious lack of awesomeness and nonsensical character decisions in the shadows of stories I do not own ...

 **A/N:** This little fic has been expanded and clarified from the first version that was here. It is easily the least liked of everything I've written, but I thought it deserved some extra work anyway. I've also changed the writing to E-Prime; details comprise the last chapter.

Think of this as version 1.5.

-o-

 **Chapter 1 – The Madness**

"Hermione, will you marry me?"

Ron had one knee on the floor, with the traditional ring-in-a-box held in an upraised hand. His hopeful expression spread all across his face, and he had his usual optimistic cluelessness.

Hermione hesitated. "Stand up, Ron. Before I answer, I need to know something."

He stood, slipping the ring box into his robe's pocket. Ron had no doubt, hesitation, or, well, _anything_ , going on beneath his surface emotions. In her mind, she snorted. _Ron barely has anything going on_ on _the surface._

"Sure, what do you want to know?"

"Ron, do you promise to answer my question completely, with no deception, regardless of what I ask?"

He frowned a bit in thought. "Okay, but you have to promise in return that you will keep my answers secret unless I give permission. I will answer all your questions, but you will keep my secrets for me, right?"

 _As if Ron has any real secrets_. "Okay …." As soon as the first syllable left her mouth, Ron grabbed Hermione's arm and towed her along as he ascended the staircases of the Weasley home. Up they climbed, until finally, at the fifth floor, they stopped and entered Ron's bedroom. Ron drew her inside, closed the door, and with this wand, poked the molding around the door – it slid downward, revealing an extensive array of miniaturized runes. A muttered incantation later, and the runes lit while the molding levitated to its original location.

Ron smiled genially at Hermione's confusion. "I created the most complete security rune system I could fit into the space I had. As long as we don't start screaming, nothing we say will leak outside."

"But … but … you didn't even take Runes!"

"Well, no. Of course not. I stared reading Bill's Runes and curse-breaking manuals after I hit my seventh birthday. Taking Ancient Runes at Hogwarts would have put me to sleep."

Blink. _Wha?_

"Um, Hermione … Hermione …"

"What? Oh, right … So why didn't you take arithmancy?"

Ron shook his head. "I had access to Bill and Charlie's books, right? So when I read the arithmancy texts, I quickly found that arithmancy has nothing to offer except a more refined version of Divination." At Hermione's blank look, he went on, "I play chess, Hermione. I immediately decided that I will not spend effort on setting up a favorable _environment_ for success when I can set up actual success instead."

She shook her head and refocused. "Why did you leave during the hunt?"

Ron's focus was a little thrown by the change of subject. "My reasons started out simple but became … a little complicated," he hedged. "How much time do you have?"

"As long as you need." Hermione's expression promised dire consequences for an incomplete explanation.

Ron then settled Hermione on the bed, and he pulled the desk and wardrobe away from the opposite wall with a flick of his wand. He took down the five eye-wateringly orange posters of the Chudley Cannons with another series of wand movements, laying them carefully on the desk. The absent posters revealed a group of mis-colored rectangles on the wall; Ron tapped two of them with his wand in a staccato rhythm, and the wall faded. Hermione gasped. The disappearing wall revealed a shallow compartment, showing a series of small notebooks – easily over a hundred – and a whole bunch of pegs, from which dangled two …

"Time turners!" Hermione gasped. "How did you get them?" She whirled to Ron. "Where did you steal them from?"

Ron chuckled. "I recieved them as a gift. From … well, _me_ actually." He sat down on the chair. "I originally had a few hundred, because every time a messenger came back to deliver a notebook of instructions, they would hand me their time turners, and then disappear. Over and over again," he said softly.

Hermione sat down on the bed with a whump, bouncing slightly. "Explain," she said curtly.

Ron sat back and put his hands behind his head. "Just before I turned seven, I got an … unusual … visitor. Myself, as identical as I could tell. I – He – gave me two time turners, and a notebook. He just said, 'These belong to you, now. Read everything first.' So I did."

"But … time turners can only go six hours into the past, and only if you've got one of the powerful ones! How did a six year old you get two of them!"

Ron smiled easily. "From me of course – the six hours in the future me. And from the six hours ahead of him, and the six hours ahead of him … a long way in the future, a Ron Weasley obtained two of the best time turners in existence, and made a plan that killed off the world that he knew. And every six hours before his decision, the prior Ron Weasley made the same decision, until it got to me."

Ron could tell that Hermione did not quite follow. "In the distant future, Super Ron steals, finds, buys, or otherwise acquires two different time turners, and has a burning need for the world to have a different past. So he buys a small notebook and writes down the point at which he needs to act. Carrying both time turners and the notebook, he uses one time turner to go back in time six hours. Follow me this far?"

Hermione's face and gestures prompted Ron to continue. Quickly. "So six hours in the past, he finds a slightly younger himself, and hands the notebook over with both time turners. Super Ron disappears – becomes unmade – and Slightly Less Super Ron uses the second time turner to go back six hours. He finds another, younger self, and gives him the time turners, and then _he_ repeats the process – and that continues until all the information and the time turners get back to the version that has a chance to make the necessary changes. All the Ron's up the timeline become unmade, and as Not-At-All-Super Ron, I find myself left with a set of Time Turners and a notebook detailing why I felt that the future needed to change. I felt so strongly enough about it that I was willing to undergo … disincorporation." He paused and sighed. "My death. My _deaths_." Another pause. "I used to have a lot of time turners. I still have a lot of notebooks."

"What did the first notebook tell you?"

Ron shrugged. "It set up the procedure for using the time turners for an extended trip: when I should use them, what information I needed to pass along to the past, the obligation that I've … given to myself, I guess. I told myself to study runes and charms; runes for application and theory and charms for power, and to conceal my abilities as best I could by emphasizing my natural state of idiocy."

Hermione snorted. "You did _that_ well."

Ron took no offense. "Thank you," he smiled easily. "I followed exercises that would strengthen my core, and I learned how to put together my essential spell book – the spells, curses, jinxes, and enchantments that I needed to use to complete my mission."

"And, your mission?"

"Why, to keep you and Harry alive so that Tom Riddle could undergo a permanent death."

Hermione frowned. "Why me? I mean, I understand Harry, but …"

"Because you help keep Harry alive, and because you prepare Harry for his fights. I worked to make you both effective … and to whittle those fights down a little, so that Harry could win," he admitted.

"What do you mean?"

Ron settled back and began the story.

"The protections around the Philosopher's Stone in our first year all came from Dumbledore and the teachers, right?"

"Of course, Ron."

"And we found that we could get around those protections fairly easily, right?"

"Well, I was scared a few times …"

"Did it ever occur to you that the protections fit our group in a kind of tailor-made way?"

Hermione's eyes grew wide.

"And just why did Dumbledore commission a logic problem for the protections if you didn't join the Chosen One's group until November first?"

Hermione stopped breathing for a moment. "So that means …"

Ron picked up the sentence for her. "…that Dumbledore chose the protections for the stone to fit the strengths of the team that would face them." He nodded. "A version of me went back to before first year – not all at once, in a relay," Ron hastily added, "to guide me into maneuvering Dumbledore into placing the obstacles that we needed to face."

"Just how did you do that?"

"Um, we'll discuss my methods later."

Hermione sat still in thought for a moment. "So how did you finesse our second year's adventures?"

Ron shrugged. "Think back to all our time at Hogwarts."

Hermione nodded.

"Did you ever hear of anyone breaking their wand except for me?"

Hermione's eyes closed as she thought back.

"And if anyone did have an issue with their wand, how did their parents and the staff of Hogwarts react?"

Hermione whispered, "They took care of it immediately."

"So you would find it very anomalous that my semi-broken wand did not get fixed immediately, right?" Hermione did not pick up on Ron's change in vocabulary.

Hermione quickly straightened up. "But Harry's fight against the basilisk! How could you know that he would live though it?"

Ron shrugged. "Well, a phoenix can cure anything. And I persuaded Dumbledore's phoenix familiar to turn up at the right time, with the right weapon, and the right defense. The solution did have some issues," he admitted, "I – a future me, at least – ended up rejiggering the timeline going back and forth trying to make it so that the roosters didn't die – but every time I tried that, we ended up losing about half the students in the school as the basilisk went on a rampage. My last time through, Harry apparently volunteered to put his life on the line to prevent that, so I went back and arranged for Lockhart's spell to bring down the ceiling, so that Harry could take out the snake."

He paused. "This path had problems, and it involved gambling on random chance, but of all the possible scenarios, this one developed into the only path I could find that didn't end up with massive deaths. We didn't end up with _one_!"

Hermione murmured, "Not even Mrs. Norris." She had a bit of a history with that particular ball of malevolent fluff.

"Exactly!"

Both of them conspicuously ignored Hermione's stint as a stone statue.

"So what about third year?"

Ron smirked a little. "Do you believe that time travelling involves danger?"

"Of course!" She definitely exuded exasperation now.

"So why would a responsible adult give a thirteen year old girl free access to a time turner just to take more school classes? Shouldn't a responsible leader reserve anything that dangerous for attempts to remake causality?"

Hermione sat back, stunned. _Why_ _ **did**_ _they let me do that?_ "Um …"

"It became the neatest solution to rescuing Black from summary execution. It allowed Harry to rescue himself and Black from the Dementors, and – almost as importantly – it gave you an experience with your limits."

"Why would that make a difference?"

"Because if you truly feel like you can do anything, you overload yourself and have a breakdown on the Hunt. You nearly did, anyway, but in this scenario, Harry dies protecting you from the Snatchers."

"Really?"

Ron shrugged. "Several variants of that scenario exist, but the massive possibility of your death in that future stems from your failure to experience, well, failure. I had to include a few other considerations, too. You could have had the brush with your limits in fifth year, but that would have made everyone in Gryffindor a little on edge, trying to deal with your manic studying, and our grades would suffer." Ron's smirk came back. "And I figured that you and Harry should have your own time turner adventures. Spread the fun around, like."

"And what about Pettigrew?" Hermione challenged.

"You should find it amazing that in two and a half years around Harry, Scabbers never tried to attack him in the middle of the night, never tried to kidnap him, never attempted anything even remotely aggressive … and also completely failed at gathering critical information for his master. Amazing, right?"

Hermione sighed, acknowledging Ron's point. "Fourth year?"

Ron sat forward. "I found that complicated and tricky. Every report I got from up the timeline showed that Harry didn't take the Tournament seriously if we were still friends, so we had to separate so that he would prepare himself; that meant a fight where he rejected me. I really hated to screw up the Ball for you and Harry, but if you had gone with your preferred partners, Skeeter's character assassination would have hit before we could have countered it, and then we would have lost all public support, and the rest of the fight would have gone downhill. It really boiled down to sacrificing one night's fun so that we could have an easier time for the next three and a half years."

Hermione pounced. "So just who did we prefer as partners?"

Ron smiled easily, "Well, you would have preferred to go with a seventh year Ravenclaw, and without my intervention, Harry could have fallen for any number of girls."

"And what about that is so bad?"

"Well, your date would have seduced you, leaving you pregnant that night, leading to you dropping out of school." With a wry grin he added, "Your education is world-shaking, it seems, and I do not feel bad about making sure that you have all the opportunities I can arrange."

Hermione found herself a little nonplussed at that, so she changed her focus. "And Harry?"

Ron hesitated a little. "If Harry went with the wrong girl, he would have been killed. And other dates might have turned out worse, in their way. The absolute worst choice was Fleur Delacour, though."

Hermione raised a threatening eyebrow. "And just why would Harry's involvement with Fleur hurt anyone? No wait – first tell me how Harry could have a date worse than getting killed!"

Ron said soberly, "Harry grew up starved for affection, and he also represented a political powerbase, even though he didn't know it. When you put those two things together, some girls would have given him all the affection he wanted – in any _way_ that he wanted – as long as he followed their political directions. That would have had catastrophic repercussions, regardless of which side got their hooks into him. In the end, Harry either drops out of the war, leaving Voldemort to win; or he finds out that his girlfriend betrays his trust, and he commits suicide."

"And why would Fleur change the future so badly?"

"Fleur has a very level head on her shoulders. But because she has Veela heritage, she experiences a lot of prejudice, right? And given her access to wealth and French political power, if Harry began a romance with her, her experiences would have her tell Harry to take the more cautious and less risky path that was more politically involved internationally … which leads to Death Eaters torturing and killing Fleur as a way to try and manipulate Harry. Harry goes Evil – and where Voldemort merely acted Dark, Harry went full-bore Evil – and he kills every wizard and witch he can find. When Harry finishes spanking the Wizarding world, magical humans are extinct at his hand."

Hermione goggled.

"Well, it headed that way. The me that reported back on that one said he knew of three magicals left when he came back; me, Harry, and Voldemort. The solution to that catastrophe leads to preventing it from happening in the first place." Ron shrugged. "Harry has an immense amount of love, and if it gets twisted, he can and will destroy the world. I had to hope that it could also save it, and that I could nudge things so that Harry could live with his choices."

Hermione fell silent for a moment, considering Ron's explanation, and then continued, "And the Tasks for the Tournament?"

Ron tiled his head. "I believe that your fundamental question runs: why didn't I make everyone's life an easy walk in the park and get all the obstacles out of the way?" Hermione nodded. "At no point did a future Ron Weasley, full of knowledge, cunning, and immense power, ever show up and save the day. I just received a letter that passed through a long relay of postmen, and I had to change what I could however I could." Ron got up and looked out through the window, facing away from the girl sitting on his bed.

"Only one person attempts to fix the future. Me. I only have my own thoughts and my own hands. Nobody else. "


	2. Chapter 2

9

 **Ah, Disclaimer!** Thou that art necessary, but unwanted, but always assumed! As if people should be reminded that I am but an intruder upon the 'Verse, furtively attempting to fix egregious lack of awesomeness and nonsensical character decisions in the shadows of stories I do not own ...

-o-

 **Chapter 2** **– The Method**

Ron said, "Only one person attempts to fix the future. Me. I only have my own thoughts and my own hands. Nobody else. I had to put the pieces in place, and trust that they could handle it. I always exercised my magic to exhaustion, even before I came to Hogwarts, and I found a skill with compulsion charms – and," he added, bobbing his head to the side, "a bit of runic enchantment, to get Dumbledore to move in the direction we needed."

"Was he the only one?"

Ron snorted, "Not even close. Fudge always showed up as a blithering idiot because he fully embraced his idiocy, and everyone on both sides imperioed and obliviated him right, left, and center, so I threw my efforts into the mix, too." He grinned. "I enchanted his bowler hat to make him indecisive. Frustrated Malfoy and the others to no end." Ron sobered. "Cedric's death couldn't change because of an unfortunate mix of Hufflepuff nobility and Potter fairness. I couldn't encourage Cedric to take the cup before Harry, and manipulating Harry always turned out disastrous, every time, so …" Lifting his gaze up from the floor, Ron at Hermione. "No matter what, you can never tell Harry that he might even have partial responsibility for Cedric's death. Pettigrew fired the curse, so he must deal with the responsibility, and Harry should never have to shoulder that guilt." Ron's eyes shone fiercly, and Hermione nodded her agreement. She swallowed and regained her train of thought.

"And the next year?"

Ron sighed. "What I can do has less to do about magical power and more about access. I could find a way to get to Dumbledore. Fudge would meet anyone that could imply he would receive publicity – or money. I found it easy to distribute items with compulsions enchanted into them among Hogwarts students, and from them, on to their parents. But Umbridge? She showed an absolute paranoia toward everyone, hated muggles, creatures, and 'blood traitors', and had no friends. I had no way to get to her, no way to get her to accept an anonymous enchanted gift, no way to influence her." Ron eyed Hermione. "And she gathered the reins of power behind Fudge in the Ministry, so getting him to get rid of her didn't work – she just ignored him and went on with her power mad fantasies."

Ron perked up. "But getting you to think of having Harry teach the DA – wow, the hardest thing about that involved keeping you from going too far! One of the possible futures had you pushing Harry into becoming a Hogwarts Professor so he could teach everyone DADA. That always went wrong in a hurry." Ron shook his head.

Hermione smirked a bit. "And why didn't _that_ work out okay?"

Ron fell completely serious. "Because Umbridge showed that she had every bit of skill that I used for manipulating situations, and she didn't go through time to do it as far as I could tell … which means she outclassed me in _every way_. As soon as Harry built a positive political foundation under himself, Umbridge worked to eliminate his support," Ron looked away into a corner of the room, "usually starting with you. Mostly she had you killed by a potions explosion. So instead of confronting her and losing you, we baited her into thinking she didn't have much in the way of opposition … up until you led her to the centaurs."

"What about the fight at the Ministry?" Hermione asked quietly.

Ron sighed and ran his right hand through his hair.

"I re-ran that fight over a hundred times. A few of those notebooks," and here, Ron gestured to the cache of memo books in the wall. "contain nothing but summaries of what not to do and why: don't use time turners against You-Know-Who, 'cause he'll just undo the universe. Don't get there early, 'cause Umbridge will have us all imprisoned. Stuff like that. We kept losing, and we kept dying. I finally got it so that we killed all the Death Eaters. In response, Voldemort went insane – ok, insane- _er_ – and stole a few muggle nukes – set them off in London, Edinburgh, Birmingham, Glasgow. When we left them all alive, and Sirius survived, Harry would die by Voldemort's hand in the final battle; he didn't have the right attitude to survive. Future-Sirius volunteered to sacrifice his life in the past to help Harry in the future fight, and sent the message back to me." Ron looked directly at Hermione. "He _accepted_ it, and volunteered. As solutions go, it sucked, but it worked."

Hermione's face hardened. "And sixth year's … activities?"

Ron got up, seemingly ignoring her question, and picked out a notebook from the hidden shelves. Most of the notebooks looked in good shape – this one had a worn and scuffed cover, and some pages obviously needed to be reattached; they hung out of the notebook with smeared pencil on them. "Read this," he said simply.

Hermione took it and carefully opened the cover. The notebook felt small in her hands – A6 size – and the sewn in pages had become detached from frequent handling. The writing obviously came from Ron's messy scribble, in pencil, and some parts seemed heavily smeared. She could make out most of it, however.

… _I have looked at all the reports from up the timeline, and I/we will have to sacrifice this year to make our survival in the years to come possible – not certain, just possible. The alienation that Harry and Hermione will each feel will have to be endured; without it, neither will survive the year after. It will build on the hardships that they have suffered in the past, and will give them the power and determination they can get in no other way. You have to accept going in that you your relationship with Hermione might never recover, and it may never grow into what you want. I know that I'd rather have her alive and hating me than have her dying as my girlfriend. I don't think I've changed that much in two years that you'd feel differently, so you'll come to the same conclusions I have; both Harry and Hermione have to survive. Harry because he saves the world. Hermione because she makes the world worth saving…_

… _you'll have to use a series of short loops to successfully ensnare Lavender, and you will have to find a way to avoid vomiting when she calls you "Won-Won". You have your warning. A little opposition to Harry's romance will help him commit to it, no matter how much you want to smooth the way. Oh, and don't take your focus off Harry, but give Neville as much support as you can without making it obvious; Neville's strength that will save the school while you worry about saving Harry so he can save us all. I certainly hope so, anyway, because no one else will do it if Nev does not decide to rise to the occasion …_

Hermione closed the cover softly. She considered a while, Ron waiting patiently for her attention to return to the real world.

Finally, she said, "What does this mean, 'short loops'?"

"Um, where?"

Hermione opened the notebook and pointed out the passage. "Oh, right. Um, Lavender and I had little attraction to each other, but choosing her kept the burden from falling on anyone else. I used the time turners to replay each meeting until I found an approach she fell for, and I had acted the way she demanded so she wouldn't break up with me, so that you and Harry could grow the skills you needed for survival." He shrugged. "I thought that I would eventually begin to like her, but it never happened. At least she got something out of it."

Hermione's eyes flashed with anger. "So you think that getting groped by The Great Ron Weasley makes up for dealing with lies and manipulation?"

Ron snorted, "I _think_ that she could tell that I felt a low enthusiasm about pawing her, especially in public, and I had to constantly talk fast and do damage control every time she wanted a public snogging session." Ron gave a significant look to Hermione that said _stop faking your obtuseness_ , "She asked for some pointers with DADA, and I her some flawed DADA tricks – I set her up to die. The reason she came recommended by the notebooks is because in every timeline where I _didn't_ date her, she … lived." Hermione looked up, startled by Ron's defense, and grew still. "And she hated it. She ended up as the plaything of Death Eaters, sometimes she broke and joined them. Her knowledge of the DA would have killed a lot of us – _did_ kill a lot of us if she shared with the wrong people … and one time when I talked with her, I asked her if she'd ever join the Death Eaters." He shrugged. "She said she'd rather die. I made sure she got her wish."

Ron's face showed plainly that this would haunt him to the end of his days.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, Hermione processing, and Ron patiently waiting for Hermione's next question. Ron carefully placed the battered notebook back on the shelf and then sat while Hermione stared off into space.

"Why haven't you gone back and re-done the battle so that Fred lives?" she asked quietly.

Ron gestured to the two time turners hanging in the hidden shelves. "I can't use them anymore. You obviously haven't thought about how the time turners work."

Hermione's eyebrow raised at Ron, but he felt no effects.

"Oh, come on. You have plenty of ability – you just haven't thought this through yet. Look at the pegs – I've only got two turners now, the minimum needed for a relay trip into the far past. What happens to a set of turners when you pass the point from which they came back?"

Hermione's forehead wrinkled as she thought.

Ron didn't wait for her to puzzle it out. "They disappear. The point where I sent back information to fix Lockhart's wagon? Wiped out as we passed through it with a successful resolution, so I didn't go back, so the time turners didn't end up in my collection. They disappeared off my pegs, never to exist again." He took a breath. "I have a hazy theory on why my notebooks still exist, but it probably has something to do with how they influenced the development of this timeline."

"Now, we've won the final battle against ol' Snake-Face, and any further meddling with the decisions that brought us here could easily end up with us heading into a future, well … we could easily cause a paradox. Watch." Ron's voice held a forceful command, and Hermione carefully observed as Ron tried to pick up the two lone time turners from their hanging pegs. As his hand grew near, they turned translucent and insubstantial, and Ron's hand passed through them.

"I don't think that you really figured out what I've done. I've accepted notebooks from Older Rons since this whole thing started ten years ago. And each time, they faded out of existence, because what I do makes it so that that particular them never happens. This version of me – my current memories and experiences – has never travelled in time. I am the one who maneuvers and bespells people, sometimes to their deaths, because I don't have the smarts or clever insights or complex plans to figure out how to save them. The Ron that exists through all this," Ron waved his hand vaguely, "has never shown bravery or focus or acted determined enough to unmake his universe so that a better one can grow in its place. Although I could _become_ him, I never do. I continually live with the shitty end of the stick, the one that has to take their complaints and try to craft a future good enough to continue in, wondering how many people can I save and how far can I push you before you break." He took a deep breath.

"My days of playing with time are over, Hermione. I have finished playing with fate, unmaking decisions because they failed the first time through. I will make decisions – even if they turn out wrong, and live with what I have chosen. I only want to live my life and be happy, the same as everyone else, living with the consequences of my decisions, and recovering from bad choices and chance as best I can."

They sat together as Ron joined her on the edge of the bed. _He never showed anything about his hidden burden._ Hermione's mind skittered about and failed to pay attention to the present, though, as she felt a loose thread in her thoughts and chased it down.

"Wait a minute!" she suddenly exclaimed. "You can't change anything in time that you've already seen! How did you change all those times when you tried to chat up Lav?"

Ron smirked. "Surely you can figure it out? If you can't change anything you _have_ seen, then you can change anything you _haven't_ seen. And how does a Wizard un-see anything?"

"Memory charms …" Hermione breathed, a little stunned. "So …" her mind whirled as she spoke her thoughts while solving the problem, "… you … obliviated yourself and then told yourself what to try on the next round … and you had to make a record somewhere …"

"Actually, I wrote down what my younger self had to try next, and then handed the notebook and time turners over. My time-travelling adventures involve me not travelling, remember? I've got quite a list of ways not to approach that girl …" Ron chuckled. "Apparently, my first approach went well until I asked her if she could make her hair a little more like yours – she _really_ didn't take that well."

A small chuckle. "I suppose not."

Silence spread as they both stopped to think about what Ron told her.

Finally, Hermione asked, "How do I know that I am not under your manipulations until I agree to marry you?"

"Are you irritated with me now?" Ron's question threw Hermione for a moment, but she nodded. "And have you felt intensely irritated with me in the past?" Hermione couldn't help the grin as she nodded.

Ron leaned forward in his chair, arms resting on his knees, saying "If I were manipulating you, you would remember a very happy past with me – since I would have fixed everything in the past – and you would feel only slightly irritated with me in the present until I could go back and fix that, too. If you remember an imperfect past relationship …" Ron trailed off and raised his eyebrows at her in invitation.

"… then I make my own choices!"

Ron smirked. "Well, I could still try to manipulate you through my amazing powers of observation and charm."

He joined Hermione as she laughed at that.

When she sobered, Hermione looked at Ron calculatingly. "I think that I only need one more explanation." She took a deep breath. "Why did you leave us in the tent?"

Ron looked away, got up and started looking at his hidden shelves. "I had something to do. Harry and you,"

"You and Harry," Hermione reflexively corrected.

"… couldn't know why I left, so I had to have an excuse. I had used jealousy as a cover in the past so I could duck out and attend to things, it seemed to work for this occasion, too."

"What did you need to do?"

Ron looked at her steadily, but did not answer.

"What did you do, Ron?"

Ron took a deep breath. "You have concerns about my manipulations. The only way that you can feel sure that I leave you alone to make your own decisions involves reflexively refusing my offer, which implicitly assumes that I made my offer in the hopes that you will accept. That course of action ignores the possibility that I may have figured out your strategy of refusal, and then propositioned you in the expectation that you will refuse me, thus putting you on the path I desired to manipulate you into taking in the first place. Correct?"

An extremely flustered Hermione nodded in assent.

"And if I offered any incentives for you to marry me, you could also consider that a form of manipulation. So I cannot offer you a ring or any other trinket until I have your answer. But before you give me that answer, you should probably consider something."

Ron saw Hermione's eyes still locked on him, so he continued, "Any course of action based on what anyone else _does_ or how anyone _feels_ can inherently manipulate a person. Your deepest motivations, however, are inherently beyond my grasp, and are never subject to my manipulations. So answer me based on what you really want, what you actually desire in your life, and you can rest easy that I have not altered the outcome in any way."

Hermione nodded along with Ron's explanation. "You can't tell me what you did during your absence in the hunt?"

"I can't answer that question."

"Can you answer the question after I answer _your_ question?"

"I can't answer that question, either."

"Ah-ha!" Hermione announced. "If your activity didn't have anything to do with asking me to marry you, you could give me an answer, so you left because you planned on proposing and your errand could involve an inducement for me to say yes!"

Ron held up his hand to stop her. " _ **Unless**_ I know that _any_ question I answer could involve an inducement, so I refuse to answer anything until you respond to my proposal."

Hermione grumped, "Damn, I hoped that you didn't think of that."

Ron calmly walked over and knelt on one knee in front of her. "First, language! And second: so, will you respond to my proposal?"

Hermione cocked her head to the side. "Let me see the ring again."

Ron shook his head, "Nothing doing. Gimme an answer, and then we can talk. No answer, no talk."

"Really?"

"Really."

"You realize that not answering my questions manipulates me into answering?"

Ron snorted. "I will not answer questions until I get an answer. I will answer your questions _after_ you give me an answer, but my willingness to talk does not depend on the content of your answer – just that you give me one."

"So you admit to manipulating me into giving you an answer!" Hermione almost shouted in triumph.

" _An_ answer," Ron responded mildly. "Whatever answer you give still comes from what you truly desire. And my manipulations haven't even touched on forcing courtesy out of you," he snarked.

"Hmm," she pondered.

"But before you answer me, I'd like you to consider two things," Ron said. "First, consider the conversation we just had. I think that I've proven that I can function as your intellectual equal in at least one area. Second, this shows that I do not have to roll over for your demands, and I have enough strength to live as your social equal as well. I do not ask for you to commit to a marriage where you need to babysit your husband, or where you can look down on him. I desire your hand in marriage, but only if it comes with your respect. And you can tell that I do not want you to feel manipulated into giving whatever answer you give."

Hermione looked intently at Ron. He placidly looked back from down on his knee, not showing anything other than a surface calm.

An impish smile broke out on Hermione's face. "Yes," she announced.

Ron lunged forward to hug her, but met Hermione's upraised hand. "Now I want answers," she demanded.

Ron looked a bit hurt. "I happen to think that finding out that I will live in happiness for the rest of my life deserves a little celebration, Hermione."

She lunged at Ron, and the shared a strong hug for longer than Molly would have liked. Hermione let go, sat back down on the bed, and then demanded, "Talk!"

Ron sat down, too, and began, "I figured out how to use runes to send a small-ish object back in time … pretty far. Along with a few other special rune sequences that I developed, that made it possible to set something up that I figured you would accept as a perfect betrothal gift for you." He casually added, "And I spent a lot of that time talking to Kreature, making sure that Snape prepared to lead Harry to the Sword of Gryffindor, making sure that the DA avoided destruction or betrayal, stuff like that."

Hermione did not allow herself to become distracted. "So can you show me the gift?"

Ron grinned a little. "Kreature led me to a rare book from the Black library and made a copy. I had a one-of-a kind title, perfect bait, and I made something like twenty copies of Kreature's copy. Then I took apart the binding and added my runes to make it a hook, and then I sent all the copies back in time as a parcel with money and instructions for sending them out by owl post."

Hermione displayed signs that she felt unhappy that Ron avoided getting to the point. Ron, however, found this enjoyable, and his grin increased. "I sent the book over twenty years into the past, and distributed it to all the Death Eaters that we knew would die."

"Who?"

"Well, Dumbledore for one. Snape, too. And just about every Death Eater I can think of: the Carrows, Rookwood, Yaxley, Doholov, the LeStranges, Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and Parkinson …"

"Mulciber?"

"Yes, I think I got him, too."

"And what did this 'hook' do to them?"

"Well, firstly, it reinforced their desire to collect books. Rare knowledge, offbeat diaries, complete spell collections, bestiaries, anything. The fights over Riddle's library should be _epic_. And then …"

"WHAT?" The anticipation really got under Hermione's _sang-froid_.

"They had to leave it all – every single book in their possession – in their will to the top student of the next Hogwarts graduating class after their demise. And we all know who will achieve _that_."

Hermione's mouth opened and closed soundlessly. Her skin turned pale, and small beads of moisture appeared on her forehead. Her pupils dilated to an alarming degree.

Offhandedly, Ron said, "If you do this right, you'll have a personal library that will rival Hogwarts' own. But if you find that this kind of reward puts too much pressure on you, you don't have to try for it …"

Hermione pounced so quickly that Ron didn't see any windup. And even though she launched herself away from the bed, he couldn't quite work out how they ended up landing on it …


	3. Chapter 3

2

 **Chapter 3 – The Process**

This chapter has no story; it is only about how this story was re-written. As stated in the Author's Note beginning this fic, this story was re-written in E-Prime.

I was first introduced to E-Prime when I read _Under The Eye Of God_ and _A Covenant of Justice_ by David Gerrold. I found them … interesting, but not the general thing I liked. So why did I obsessively read through them?

Mr. Gerrold wrote an addendum that answered this question – he wrote the books in E-Prime, a subset of the English language that does not contain any form of the verb, 'to be.' Theoretically, this makes the text more action-oriented, by removing the possibility of using the passive verb indicating mere existence. This forces all verbs to be somewhat active, rather than passive. (Again, this is theoretical. Writing a passive story under these constraints bends the results a bit.)

And that's where it rested in 1995. So, almost 25 years later, I found myself looking at this story that I'd written. It was easily the least read and least liked of all my fanfics. This story was already written, but clearly had problems. It is only five thousand words, so was ripe for a re-write. But into what? What needs to be done?

Well, this story is inherently passive and boring. No action takes place here; even though alluding to action, it only records a conversation between Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. How could I punch this up? A distant memory bubbled up with a solution.

 _E-Prime._

First, I found a list of forms of the verb 'to be.' (The internet is a wonderful thing, and I also know that I would never generate this list on my own. I can remember back to 1995 – the pictures grow dim when I'm trying to remember back to _1975_ , when I had my basic grammar classes.) And then I realized that I'm going to be using the computer's Search & Replace functions, so I'll also need a list of contractions where those pesky verbs might be hiding. These are the words I marked in Word:

am, is, are, was, were, being, been, be

and the contractions list (taken from yet another website):

I'm, you're, he's, she's, it's, we're, you're, they're, isn't, aren't, wasn't, weren't, and ''s' when it is not a possessive.

Did it make this story better? I'm not sure, but it was an interesting exercise. Also frustrating.

But I'm pretty sure that it made me a better writer.


	4. Chapter 4: Omake

I couldn't beat this into shape in time for posting the main story, and it was irrelevant anyway, but I didn't want to leave it out.

OMAKE

Several days after Ron had revealed his hidden activities, Hermione sat up straight. She was at the Burrow, sharing in a typical Weasley dinner (raucous, overly supplied with food, and perversely emanating a comfortable vibe of 'family'), when yet another stray memory made her question her past.

She knew that Ron was vastly more observant that he let on, but he didn't react at all to her vanished smile, nor did he direct any conversation her way - in fact, he seemed to be drawing away attention, keeping her emotional volatility from being noticed by his siblings. Hermione vowed to confront Ron directly after dinner.

It didn't work, of course, with George needing a bit more emotional support than the average bear, but eventually the clan of red-headed terrors had dispersed and Hermione had the privacy to drag an unprotesting Ron up to his room perched on the peak of the fragile-looking architecture.

She slammed the door closed, and pointed a slightly unsteady hand at Ron's runic security system. "Light it up," she ordered, panting. Ron quietly eased his wand out of his pocket, activated the runes, and sat down, a faint smile flitting across his face quite frequently.

" _Levi-oh-SAH? LEVI-OH-_ _ **SAH**_ _?_ You studied charms since you were eight, you knew how to say it, you had no problems casting it perfectly that evening to save me, _and you lied to me from the very beginning!"_

Ron abruptly stood, forcing Hermione to stumble backward a few steps. He took her by the upper arms, turned, and forcibly sat her down on the bed. He leaned in to be less than four inches from her face and snapped, " _Quiet down!_ If you're set on screeching like a fishwife, we can do that, but you do NOT get to haul off and act like my Mom without listening to what I have to say!" He stood up and looked down at his fiancée, a form and stubborn expression planted on his features.

Hermione was shocked into silence. Ron had pushed her buttons quite well, and now she was apprehensive about airing her thoughts; she had temporarily forgotten that Ron was easily her match in wits and quite a bit stronger than her – perhaps emotionally as well as physically. She tried not to cringe, so that Ron wouldn't know how powerfully he had affected her. _Comparing me to Molly was a low blow!_

"You know that I have had guidance on what to do so that the future turned out favorably. You also know that I was counselled to keep my abilities secret, so that Tom Riddle's attention would continually skip right on over me. You know that I have done everything I possibly could to keep you _alive_ and _happy_ through the middle of a war." Ron stopped and breathed heavily with suppressed emotion.

"And now you are upset, _seven years after the fact_ , that an eleven year old git treated you badly. Is that it?"

Hermione timidly said, "Yes, I suppose it is." She took a deep breath and went on with more self-assurance, "And you didn't do anything to tell me the truth even when I asked for it!" Hermione's volume steadily rose as she regained her emotional equilibrium.

Ron plopped down onto his bed beside her. "Why did we sit together in Flitwick's class?"

Hermione was taken aback at his abrupt subject change. "Umm … what?"

"Why did we sit together in Flitwick's class?" Ron's voice was tired, yet reasonable.

"Well … " Hermione trailed off with no answer.

"I was best friends with Harry, so why didn't I sit with him?"

Hermione's eyes narrowed.

"Because," Ron answered himself, "I maneuvered my way into sitting with you. So you have this emotionally-stunted kid who has yet to grow into having the 'emotional range of a teaspoon'," Ron grinned as he threw that assessment back at her, "trying to catch your attention in the typical stupid ways that boys come up with. And you're upset because … _I wasn't smooth at it_?"

"Kindof," Hermione muttered then sniffed.

"Sweetheart," Ron began kindly, "that is the stupidest thing I've ever heard you say, and that includes 'or worse, expelled!'"

Hermione flushed.

"Getting notes from an alternate future doesn't give me any kind of skills or talents. I'm still me, no matter what kind of coaching I've gotten. And if you can't accept who I am … maybe we should re-think this relationship of ours," Ron said flatly.

Hermione sat straight up in alarm. She sputtered incoherently.

Ron asked, "Is that what you wanted?"

Hermione apparently didn't trust her voice, as she shook her head in the negative quite energetically.

"So what kind of response _were_ you looking for?"

Hermione sat back, and in a small voice, whispered, "I don't know."

Beside her, Ron shook his head. "If you want reassurance that I love you, just let me know. If you want clarification on something I've done, ask away. But if you want something and try to maneuver me into it, or try to force me into having a certain opinion, we're just not going to work together." He gently pulled her chin so that he could meet her eyes directly. "I'm not going to put up with a girlfriend – or wife – arranging my thoughts and opinions. Yes, I'm partially using our relationship to escape the control of my mother, but I'm not going to accept that kind of control from someone else. And if you want to be married to me, you need to deal with who I really am, not the somewhat insulting image you've created over the years."

Hermione nodded, and rested her forehead on Ron's shoulder. "Okay," she said, her voice still quite meek and quiet.

"So, are we good?"

Hermione sat up and nodded.

Ron stood and deactivated his privacy runes, and Hermione stood to remove wrinkles from her slacks. She eventually said in a teasing voice, "So are you really wanting to marry me, or are you jumping into a relationship to escape living under your Mother's eye?"

Ron tilted his head a bit in thought, then said firmly, "Yes."

"Which one?"

Ron turned back from the top of the stairs. "You own a mirror; you know that I have every reason to marry you. And you've met my Mum – I have every reason to escape. Why can't it be both? So – yes." And with that, his long legs carried him down slightly slower than gravity, leaving a sputtering Hermione on the fifth floor landing.


End file.
